


Olympic Valentine

by CQueen



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: 2014 Winter Olympics, Competition, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:11:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CQueen/pseuds/CQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Blake of the United States and his long time rival Tom Eames of Great Britain are competing against each other in the Olympic debut of slopestyle freestyle skiing.  let the Games begin.</p><p>Yeah...I never realized that Valentine's Day takes place during the Olympics...so I had to.</p><p>GO CANADA!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Olympic Valentine

Disclaimer: As always I own nothing but the original characters and the situations all characters end up in. Everything else belongs to someone else and that's the way of it.

Note: I know very little about this particular sport, so apologies if I make many mistakes or skip over some of the details.

Happy Valentine's Day AND GO CANADA GO WAHOOOOO!

Olympic Valentine

The sport of slopestyle freestyle skiing was making its Olympic debut on Day 6, and excitement was running high as the men's finals drew closer. A great deal of buzz was centered around the current top two contenders, Arthur Blake from the United States and Tom Eames of Great Britain. Whether they would continue to wow the crowds and the judges was the hot topic of conversation, especially among those who followed the sport and knew something of the longstanding rivalry between the two.

"It's thirty minutes to the start of the finals and everyone's wondering if Tom Eames of Great Britain will join his longtime rival on the podium or not." Was announced by one of the many television hosts, busy informing his audience as he and his co-host discussed the match to come. "Unlike Blake Eames has a history of risking everything on highly dangerous and tricky maneuvers that have often led to accidents or lost points when he failed to pull them off. Blake, on the other hand, is known for being on point with every maneuver and nailing them without fail, all but guaranteeing his place on the podium today."

"But one has to factor in that Eames's risky choices have also springboarded him over Blake in the standings before. Blake tends to play it safe too often, and that's come back to bite him in the past." The other announcer pointed out. "But I think we're in agreement here, that provided there are no mishaps, these two are definitely destined for the podium today."

"I have to agree with that, especially since both men seemed to be on top of their games earlier. Who will be on top in the end, well that remains to be seen."

Nodding his head the host smiled, even as he was silently informed that they would need to drag out their broadcast a little longer due to the finals being slightly behind schedule. That being the case he smiled widely at the audience and turned the conversation to the rivalry between the two, informing those viewers who weren't familiar with the sport of the numerous incidents in the past where both competitors had had less than nice things to say about the other.

"The faces Blake tends to make over the nicknames are certainly amusing." His co-host agreed. "Particularly Eames's habit of calling Blake 'Darling'."

"Too true, Kent." Was the amused response. "It will be interesting to see what Eames's is calling him after this final showdown."

)

Standing slightly off to the side, looking deceptively cool and slightly bored, Tom Eames had never been so terrified in his life. And that, the Englishman thought with a smirk, was saying something. He'd had more than his fair share of near death experiences on the slopes, and even off them, but nothing compared to this waiting and wondering. He'd never imagined he'd ever be representing his country in the Olympics, that had never been a dream of his. In all honesty, the fact of it was that he'd started the slide into retirement from the X Games when Arthur had come to see him after his latest visit to the hospital, the uptight Yank come to belittle him for his injuries…and to ask him if he was going to try for the Olympics. When he'd said it wasn't bloody likely, especially given his body's condition at the time, the little prat had actually looked disappointed before shrugging his shoulders, stating the gold was his then, and then left!

So of course he'd had to start training as soon as he was up to it so that he could damn well steal that gold from his favorite rival and pain in the arse.

Thinking of Arthur made him think of their long history together, Eames's smile becoming genuine as he remembered the endless fighting and bickering, the practical jokes from him and the Yank's razor sharp tongue slicing him to bits. They were considerably better these days, mellowing with age and all that shite, but at heart they considered the other their only true rival. The only one they competed against. If they lost to someone else, which had only happened in a very blue moon, well then they were both in the foulest of moods for quite a while. Losing to the other though, that they would allow. Then it was a worthy loss.

Which spurned them to try harder, but that was just their naturally competitive natures.

Spotting the man in question coming towards him, Arthur was hard to miss, Eames straightened up and gave his favorite skier his most cocky of smiles. "Hello, Darling. Come to talk me into a stupor so that I can't compete?"

"Your humor is, as always, as questionable as your tattoo choices, Mr. Eames."

"Ouch, that one hurt, Pet."

"You would need brains for your nerves to connect to, to feel pain."

Staggering backward until his back hit the wall, Eames placed a hand over his heart while he moaned pitifully at the verbal wounding he'd just received.

Twitching lips giving him away slightly, Arthur just rolled his eyes for form and then moved closer, telling Eames to lower the zipper on his coat.

"Why? You want to see the stab wound?"

When a baleful stare was Arthur's only response Eames shrugged good-naturedly and did as asked, raising an eyebrow when the other man retrieved something from his own coat pocket that he recognized. "One of those good luck charm thingies Saito makes you wear when you compete?" His darling didn't have a superstitious bone in his body, but the American's main sponsor did and insisted, as part of Arthur's contract with him, that he had to wear these Japanese charms when he competed.

"One of my older ones, yes." And on that note Arthur surprised him by leaning in to slide the charm around his neck, tying it securely at the back. "This has some sentimental value to me so don't you dare lose it. If you do I'll impale you with one of your own skis, capice?"

Saluting him Eames reached down to finger the small black bag with some Japanese symbol on the front curiously, eyebrows rising slightly as he felt that something hard-with a hollow middle in it?

Nipping the charm out of Eames's hands nimbly, Arthur shoved it under Eames's shirt and then zipped the coat up firmly. "No opening it. That's bad luck."

"You don't believe in luck."

"But you do."

This was true, which his favorite Yank knew very well. Oh well, maybe he'd take a peek after the match, when his luck didn't matter so much. He was curious now after all, and Eames was not in the habit of ignoring things that interested him.

"Good luck, Mr. Eames."

Grinning Eames took the hand offered to him, the squeeze both gave affectionate as opposed to threatening. "And to you, Darling. And to you."

"You know I don't like that." Was Arthur's not really that annoyed response to the endearment as they allowed their hands to slide out from the other's.

"Can't help it, Darling." Was Eames's oh so innocent response before he winked rakishly. "You'll always be my darling."

More eye rolling, he'd heard that line too many times to count to do otherwise at this point, Arthur shook him head and then gave Eames a very official sort of nod before heading back to his place. They'd be starting soon after all, and his Yank never missed his cue.

)

As everyone in the know had predicted, it came down to the perfectionist American and the daredevil Brit when it came to the final runs down the course. Barring accident or a miracle run performed by one of the other competitors, Arthur and Eames would be on the podium with either a gold or silver medal around their necks. Arthur was a little ahead, but that was to be expected since Eames was saving his best for last. That way, even if he did crash and burn, at least he'd have lasted till the bitter end.

When his darling's final scores were announced Eames was pleased even though they set the bar high. Maybe unreachably high which was a little unexpected but made him that much happier. His Yank had opted to throw in some more dangerous and complex moves than normal, the man finally taking his words to dream a little bigger to heart it seemed. Not that Arthur probably hadn't planned it all out in his head first, it was one of the reasons the American was so bloody good at everything he did. Arthur never missed a detail or left things to chance.

And then it was his turn, the cool wind brushing over whatever bare skin it could find on Eames's face as he adjusted his goggles and then prepared to give it his all this one last time before he retired. This was it…and he was damn well going to have fun with it.

He was going to ride those rails and take those jumps like he owned them.

Hopefully he didn't break his bloody neck in the process, Eames silently added, as Arthur was liable to never forgive him and spend their whole hereafter never letting him forget it.

Having done his fair share of skate and snowboarding as a lad Eames knew rails, knew how to ride them, balancing his weight and looking damn good as he used them as a springboard to flashy moves that got progressively more impressive as he defied the slushy at points snow to hold him back or impede him in any way. He had his good luck charm and a determination to succeed that refused to bend even for Mother Nature.

The jumps, oh how he flew as he twisted and contorted his body in ways it didn't necessarily want to go but he made his limbs cooperate, pushing aside the pain and aches of old injuries as he focused on his landings and the sheer fun of skiing backwards before hitting the next ramp that sent him into his next set of spins while the cheering crowds buzzed faintly in his ears.

Again and again he flew, feeling it more and more, and then it was the final jump and as he lifted off he knew that this was it, his moment of glory. He had this.

What moves he pulled Eames couldn't have told you, his body moving on its own, deciding for him what his final statement to the crowd and judges would be. It was going to be spectacular though. Of that he was sure.

Landing perfectly Eames glided over the finish line with his back to it, pumping both fists in the air because he knew, he just knew that his run had been everything he could have asked for. And even if they just gave him the silver…this moment was almost better than the greatest sex of his life, the crowds going wild and chanting his name as many waved his country's flag.

And then his scores were up and there it was…he'd done it. He'd gotten the gold.

)

To the amusement of some Eames actually needed help getting up after dropping to his knees in shock and exhilaration at his win, having pulled and strained a number of things during his terrifying to watch run that had left a great many people, including his coaches, completely breathless. Everyone was saying that it was a miracle he hadn't broken his neck or back with that last stunt, Arthur chewing him out in four different languages when the American finally managed to wade through the crowd to give him hell over it. Of course he'd just hugged the stuffing out of the sputtering Yank, much to the amusement of everyone. And naturally it was then that he'd realized how much he was hurting, which Arthur informed him he absolutely deserved before helping one of Eames's coaches get him to a chair.

Eames was a little better come podium time, but not a hell of a lot. Both the Canadian who'd placed bronze and Arthur with his silver easily took their places, accepting their medals and then flowers with ease before waving to the crowds. But when it was Eames's turn…well he had to use Arthur's podium to get up to his own, and Arthur helped him with that too. And then it came time for the medal…and there was no way in hell he was bending down low enough for that.

"Here, give it to me."

The official looked like he was going to argue, but no one argued with Arthur Blake's 'you'll do as I tell you or else' stare. He handed over the gold medal, and Arthur nimbly stepped up onto the top and then placed the gold medal around Eames's neck for him, Eames grinning widely at him while Arthur wore a small but genuine smile as well, before stepping down once more.

The flowers Eames was able to take from the next official himself, the Brit taking a moment to appreciate the bouquet before he handed it over to Arthur with much wiggling of eyebrows.

Arthur amused everyone by not only taking it, but keeping it as well.

After that Great Britain's anthem played and tears were shed, plenty of waving was done and pictures taken. Then it was time for the press conferences and more photos and the dozens of other things a gold medalist had to contend with after winning in the Olympics. And when that was finally over he was finally allowed to go spend some quality times with trained professionals, who were there solely to put athletes back together again after they'd pushed their bodies too far.

Naptime came after he was feeling well enough to move on his own steam, then dinner and more interviews, and then another quick nap before it was time to meet up with his fellow athletes to celebrate his win in true style.

It was just after midnight when Arthur finally made an appearance, which Eames noted right away since he'd been keeping an eye out for his Yank all evening. Arthur was the come early to a party and leave before eleven type, crazy bastard that he was after all. In truth he'd have been worried if not for the fact that one of Arthur's teammates had explained that Saito had invited Arthur to some fancy dinner to celebrate.

Making his way through the crowd Eames raised an eyebrow when, rather than continue to come towards him, Arthur motioned for him to head off towards the exit. Hmm…interesting, that.

Playing along Eames did as silently bade, following Arthur out until they were both standing outside in the cool night air, the outdoor lights sufficient enough that he could see the other man clearly, with his back against the wall beside the door.

Walking over to stand in front of his biggest rival Eames grinned and then leaned down to press their lips together in a warm, loving kiss, wrapping his arms around Arthur's waist to press them close.

"You're moving better now, hmmm?"

"I'd be happy to show you how much better, Darling."

"I could get behind or in front of that." Was Arthur's amused response as he allowed himself to be cuddled close for a moment before lightly pushing Eames back a little, well aware of what country they were in and its laws. "But first…where's my charm?"

Eames's blank look had Arthur giving him one that would suggest cold blooded murder was on his mind.

"Wait! Wait! Don't impale me yet!" Fear brought clarity, Eames fumbling as he opened his coat pocket and retrieved the charm in question, having stuff it in there with the intention of giving it back to Arthur hours earlier. "Here is it."

Rather than take it Arthur told him to open it.

Remembering well Arthur's comment about bad luck Eames's eyes narrowed, but he did as ordered anyway, undoing the drawstring and then reaching in to pull out something wrapped up in a strip of cloth. Intrigued now Eames carefully unwrapped that from around the object and found himself looking at…a ring.

"If I'd given it to you sooner you wouldn't have had your head in the match, plus it would have been seen as a publicity or political stunt. As well it's officially the fourteenth now, so technically speaking I'm proposing on Valentine's Day. I'm not getting down on one knee."

Absently shoving the extra stuff into his trouser pocket Eames's concentration was solely on the ring, silver with a line of gold running through the middle. And when he started turning it around in his fingers he spotted the engraving inside, holding it up closer to read it.

"Always Your Darling." The two said together.

Clutching the ring tightly against his palm Eames had to clear his throat a couple of times before he could get the words out. "I was…I was wearing this the whole time."

Arthur nodded, a half smile on his face. "I knew you'd go all out…and I wanted you to have it on you even if you didn't know it was there."

"Darling…you said you had no interest in getting married…ever." He would have asked him long ago if he'd thought Arthur wouldn't turn him down just on principle.

"Well I came to the realization over the last couple months that given the amount of damage you've done to your body over the years, I'm going to be spending a great deal of our life together visiting you in hospitals while various parts are replaced or repaired. That ring won't keep us together-but it will let me be with you when you need me."

"And you love me madly." Eames prompted, leaning in to press their foreheads together. "And want to spend the rest of your life with me."

"I love you." Arthur acknowledged. "And it will be your life the way you've wrecked your body."

"You love my body."

"When it's not in a full body cast."

Laughing as he slipped the ring into place, Eames lifted up his hand to show it off and then shifted so that he could slide his fingers into Arthur's hair, stroking the silky strands affectionately before stealing another kiss.

"Better than any old gold medal, Darling."

"Damn right it is."


End file.
